Let Him Grow Up
by PheonixFeather10
Summary: What would Harry's childhood look like if the Dark Lord had not killed his parents? What if he could grow up... normal? How would things be different? A series of drabbles in a Non-Voldermort world.
1. Prologue

_This is going to be a series of drabbles about Harry's childhood if his parents hadn't died in the battle. I am not sure how often it will be updated. But I will try... ;) Do leave a review. Please?_

 _Disclaimer:_ _Harry Potter does not belong to me._

* * *

It was a little over a month since the battle, and Harry was now seventeen months old. He was an adorable little baby, with a fuzz of dark hair, and wonderful green eyes that were the spitting image of his mother's. He was an expert at sitting up, and he had a teddy given to him by his Uncle Remus that he was inseparable with. Remus and Sirius were both in love with him.

Lily was extremely proud of her baby. She couldn't help but wonder what it might have been like for Harry if she and James had died in the battle. What would have happened to him? Remus and Sirius would both have fought desperately over which one could look after him. And then there was always Petunia, for while she would have protested at being given a baby to look after, she was the next of kin. The ministry would have most likely given Harry to Petunia to look after.

Not that Lily needed to worry about it any more. She and James had not made a will before the battle, but a few days after they had hurried to prepare one. Now if anything happened to them, Harry would be taken in by Sirius and Remus, to be cared for equally.

Not that anything would happen to them. The Dark Lord was defeated – dead. Lily had seen his body with her very eyes. She would never forget the screams, the cries of the battle... The nightmares would haunt her forever.

But at least she had her Harry with her still.

Lily got up from her sofa, and walked over to the nursery where Harry was sleeping. This new house was big enough for Harry to have his own room – but Lily wasn't comfortable with leaving him alone for long. She just couldn't bare to think of all the things that could happen – what if he choked himself, or something! James always laughed at her, but it didn't make a difference.

The passage where the bedrooms were was painted a soft blue. She wasn't sure if she liked the colour – but James had picked it out himself, and she hadn't had the heart to protest when he had brought it home from Diagon Alley. At least it was better than the ugly yellow that the passage had been painted before.

Harry's room was right next to James' and hers – close, but still too far. He was so young, and even if he didn't sleep there at night, it was still too far.

The doorframe of her sons' room was decorated with yellow stars, stars that she had painted herself by hand. A labour of love. Lily hesitated in the doorway, feeling the stars with her fingertips. They were for her son, her husband, her friends. She hadn't told anyone yet that as she had painted them, she had named them. One for every friend who had died in the battle.

Lily gave them one last look, then peeked her head around the corner. There in the corner, was Harry's green crib. Lying contentedly on top was Harry, very busily employed in sucking his toes.

Lily gave a moan of adoration, and swept him up, kissing him repeatedly on the head and nose. Little Harry protested loudly, wanting air. Lily laughed, and carried him out of the nursery and down the blue passage, into the living room.

Harry was now in the prime of crawling, and Lily was finding it hard to keep up with him. She had barely enough time to watch him, let alone make the dinner. But she was not annoyed, or upset by it at all. Her Harry was awake, and with his presence came a feeling of exultation. The sad, depressed thoughts were swept back under the bed, and Lily focused on looking after her Harry.

There was no way that those Dementors were getting anywhere near her Harry. They could stay under the bed, or better yet, be brought out and put in the bin with the rubbish.

Not that she had time to empty the bin. That was James' job.


	2. Walking

_I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed/faved/followed my story. I really appreciate it everyone! Actually I was so excited by the response that I was inspired to write another short chappy :) It's pure fluff. Please let me know what you think._

 _Disclaimer:_ _The Potterverse does not belong to me._

* * *

 **17 Months**

To tell the truth, Lily Potter was annoyed.

She was annoyed at Molly Weasely. Her son, Ronald, had started walking two months ago.

And here was Harry, quite content with just crawling. Crawling! Why anyone would crawl when they could walk, Lily had no idea. Crawling wouldn't get you anywhere in life.

But Harry just wouldn't see sense. He preferred to stay down low, crawling in and out of nooks and crannies, but not walking.

Lilly had researched. Most babies started to walk around 12 to 13 months. Some took as long as 15. Very few made it to 17 without taking a step. The book had assured her that even if it wasn't till 18 months, her baby was still perfectly normal. Lily had put the book down at that point. Of course Harry was normal! He was just... a little slower than others, that was it.

James found it funny. He never saw sense, that one. Here was Harry refusing to walk, and there was Ronald Weasely walking like anything, and James found it funny! How ridiculous. _She_ saw nothing funny about it.

Lily sighed, and gave the pot of soup another vigorous stir. Ronald always had done _everything_ before Harry. So had Neville Longbottom for that matter, but she wasn't going to blame him. Poor soul, losing his parents in that way. And poor, dear Alice and Frank. Lily made a mental note to bake something special to take to the hospital on her scheduled visit next Tuesday.

Thoughtlessly tapping the spoon against the side of the pot, Lily licked her finger and considered. A bit more salt, that was it. She added a pinch, and gave another stir. She could use magic for this, but somehow she always preferred to cook by hand. It was so much more satisfying. There was something to be said for the muggle ways... though that was an opinion that she had always tended to keep to herself.

Just then, she remembered that her Harry had been unusually quiet for quite a while. Hurriedly putting down the spoon, she raced around the corner into the living room, where he had wandered over not two minutes ago. Why had she lost track of time? What if he had fallen over? What if he had suffocated... or, or something?

Lily nearly had a heart attack when she saw her small son standing on his feet, and reaching up as far as he could go towards James' Quidditch broom, which was on the broom rack. His little hands were nearly there. Lily stopped, and held her breath in anticipation.

Harry touched the broom with one finger, then promptly fell down on his bottom. He put his finger in his mouth and stared up at the broom.

Lily could hold still no longer. She ran over to him and swept him up, dancing him around the living room. "You've done it, my darling baby!" she cried. Harry waved his hands in the air, not knowing what was going on, but enjoying the attention.

\\\\\

That night at dinner, Lily excitedly told James that Harry had stood up. All by himself.

"That's my boy, reaching for the broom," grinned James, fondly looking at his son, who was smashing his fists into his food. "He'll be a fine Quidditch player one day!"

"But James, he stood!" exclaimed Lily. "He's probably been walking behind our backs all this time!"

"I wouldn't be surprised!" laughed James, picking up his grimy son and lifting him in the air. Harry giggled and babbled happily. Soon the three of them were waltzing around in the living room, dinner forgotten.

Lily leaned her head on James' shoulder and smiled up at him. James smiled back. _What could I have done to get her,_ he thought contentedly.

 _Imagine if the battle had gone differently,_ thought Lily, smiling at her husband and son. _Poor, dear Harry. And I must remember to take Harry with me to visit Alice. Poor thing._

But though Lily was sorry for the Longbottoms, she knew that her little family would still be happy. Just being together was enough. She didn't ask for any more.


	3. Talking

_Thanks again for all of the support from everyone :) If you like, from now on you can make suggestions for little things that Harry can do with his family. I may not take them, but it would be great to hear your ideas._

 _Disclaimer : I do not own the amazing Potterverse. _

* * *

**Eighteen Months**

Harry was eighteen months old. He was just learning to walk, and could be found toddling around on his two feet. His parents were exceptionally proud of him.

One week in early January, Lily left Harry with James, as she was going on a shopping trip with some old friends from Hogwarts. Lily was trying not to show her concern, reminding herself that James was Harry's parent too – but it was hard to keep in her anxiety. Especially as it was the weekend, and Sirius and Remus could pop in at any time. Of course she trusted those two – they were Harry's godparents, after all – but nevertheless, it was an anxious Lily who flooed away, leaving her son with her husband, happily blowing bubbles in the living room.

James blew a bubble on the end of his wand, using a special spell that his father had always done with him. He then tapped the bubble with the tip of the wand, and muttered a spell under his breath. The bubble turned bright pink. Harry giggled, and tried to touch the bubble. It popped at his grasp, and Harry was staring at blank space. He clapped his hands, and babbled. James grinned, and blew another bubble, blue this time.

Just then, there was a commotion in the kitchen. Sirius and Remus sauntered around the corner, grinning. "Let yourself in, why don't you?" grinned James, before greeting his two friends.

"Where's Lily?" asked Sirius.

"Shopping," said James with a grimace. "It's just Harry and I today."

"How are you, Harry?" asked Remus, picking up his godson. "Enjoying your father son time?"

"We've come to relieve you of the boredom of your father," grinned Sirius, patting Harry on the head. Harry giggled, and tried to pull Sirius' nose. Sirius leaned back, with a horrified expression. "You've taken my nose! Where did you put it?" He dramatically looked around him, searching for his nose. Harry, who knew the trick well, patted Sirius on the face and forehead. "That's better," said Sirius, acting relieved.

"Do you two want a drink?" asked James, going into the kitchen.

"Butterbeer, if you have it," called Sirius.

"Has Harry spoken yet?" asked Remus, bouncing the small child.

"No, but he babbles like anything," said James from the kitchen. "He only just started walking, you know. I don't think it's likely that he's going to start talking any time soon. Though Lily has her hopes up. She is determined that he talks before the Weasely child, Ronald." He came out, carrying three full glasses of butterbeer and placing them on the small coffee table.

Remus sat down with Harry on the sofa, and proceeded to tickle Harry's feet, which set the toddler off giggling. Sirius thoughtfully took a sip of butterbeer. "What age do they generally start talking?" he said, seriously.

"Eighteen months or so," said James. "But Harry is only just there anyway. There's no need to worry. Yet."

"I would start worrying," said Sirius.

"He'll be fine," Remus reassured James, who was starting to look worried.

"We could teach him," said Sirius thoughtfully.

"I don't think that that's possible." James looked downcast

"We can try," Sirius said. "Say da-da, Harry."

"You can do it! Da-da!" James waved his arms around.

Harry stared at his two godfathers, confused. "How about Si-ri-us?" said Sirius. "Say Si-ri-us, Harry."

"I think he should learn his fathers' name before his godfathers name, Sirius," said James.

"I don't know. He'll look up to me way more than you."

"No he won't! I'm the father! The _father_!"

"No one actually respects their father more than their godfather."

"Shut up, you two," said Remus, before they started to argue. "Say Da-da, Harry."

Harry looked solemnly at the three marauders. Then he opened his mouth. "Bro-om," he said solemnly. Then he put his fingers in his mouth and giggled, wiggling on Remus' lap.

The three friends stared at each other. "Did... did he just say what I though he said?" asked James.

"He can't have. He's too young for Quidditch." Remus stared at the small boy, who seemed to know exactly what they were talking about, for he was smiling widely.

"My broom I gave him for Christmas seemed to have done the trick!" cried Sirius.

"My son will be the best Quidditch player of the century!" James leaped to his feet and gave a mighty cheer.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" yelled Harry, bouncing up and down on Remus' lap.

"He wants a ride on his broom!" cried James. "Where did Lily put it?"

Lily had left it underneath James', on the broom rack. Remus carefully put Harry on it, and strapped him on. Then Harry was off, flying around the house with the marauders cheering on, chasing him through the rooms.

\\\\\

Lily came home to a quiet and messy house. James, Sirius, and Remus were all sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading a story to Harry. It was his favourite, Babbity Rabbity and the Golden Shoe. It was Remus' Christmas present to Harry, and the Potters had read it so many times that they knew it off by heart.

Lily paused in the doorway of the Living Room, and leaned against the wall, watching the men and the baby. It was a short while before they noticed her presence, and when they did, James, Sirius and Remus clumsily stood up. "Sorry about the mess," said Remus bashfully. James tried to straighten the cushions on the sofa.

"Oh, never mind that," said Lily, who was cursing herself for worrying about Harry while she was out. "Stay for tea?"

"Love to," said Sirius.

"Harry spoke, Lily," said James.

Lily nearly dropped her shopping. "What did he say?"

"Broom."

"Broom. He said... broom?"

"Your son is going to be a fantastic Quidditch player!" said Sirius, lifting the protesting Harry in the air.

Lily took Harry from Sirius, and kissed him on the head. "There's my good boy," she whispered to him. Harry laid his head on her shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut.

Lily looked up at them. "You three are on cooking duty," she said. "I'm going to put this one to bed. You plain wore him out."

The three marauders nodded sheepishly, and left for the kitchen, where they would attempt to cook steak and instead burn it. So the four had singed steak by candlelight, with butterbeer and cold potatoes. Harry was fast asleep in his cot.

Lily was content. While she had a wonderful day at Diagon Alley, somehow a candlelight supper with good friends was far more satisfying. And Harry had beat that Ronald Weasely at something. She couldn't wait to tell Molly.


	4. Reading

_Here is a short one for you all :)_

 _Disclaimer : The Potterverse does not belong to me._

* * *

 **Two**

Harry was two years old, and a chubby little baby boy. He could now talk – if you could understand what he was saying.

One afternoon, Lily was sitting on the sofa intent on her book, when Harry came out of his room after his nap, dragging his blanky after him. Lily sighed and shut her book. "Hello darling, what are you doing up?"

Harry lifted up his arms, and Lily lifted him up and sat him next to her. She smiled down at him, and opened her book again, proceeding to read. Harry put his hand on it. "Weed?" he said.

"Not this one sweetie," said Lily with a sigh. "Which other book do you want me to read you?"

"Babble," said Harry.

Lily stood up, and went to the short bookshelf that stood next to the fireplace in the corner of the living room. She pulled out Harry's current favourite story, the tale of Babble the Bunny, illustrated edition, and sat down again next to Harry. The child snuggled up to her, and put his thumb in his mouth, sucking contentedly.

Lily opened up the green cover, and began to read. "The Tale of Babble the Bunny," she started. "Once upon a time, there was a bunny whose name was Babble."

"Babble," said Harry.

"That's right," said Lily. "Babble lived in a big rabbit warren with all of his brothers and sisters. But one day he decided to leave his family, and go and see the world."

"Why mummy?" asked Harry.

"Ummm... he wanted to see what was outside of his home, I suppose," said Lily. "One day you'll want to go and see the world too." Somehow, though, Lily couldn't imagine her small son ever leaving her. "Babble left and walked along the lane for a little while. Soon he came across an old wizard."

Harry started to giggle; he knew what was coming next. Lily smiled at him, and continued.

"The wizard said to him, "Would you like to come and be a part of an act in my next show?" and Babble said, "Yes please." So Babble and the old wizard went off together. But what do you suppose happened next?"

"The run," said Harry. His chubby hands started to turn the pages, bending them as he did so. Lily leaned back until he had turned ten pages ahead.

"Are you sure you want to start here, sweetie?"

Harry nodded rapidly. "Weed mummy!" he said crossly.

Lily raise her eyebrows, but continued. "Then Babble bought himself an icecream shop to sell icecreams to all of the children of the world. He never forgot the old wizard, who had made his fortune. But one day he started to miss his family."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Well, he missed his mummy and his daddy, and all his brothers and sisters," said Lily, remembering the days when she had first missed her own family. "He wanted to go back to them. He hadn't seen them for a very long time."

"Keep weeding mummy." Harry shifted in his seat.

"So Babble left his icecream shop, and went home to see his parents again. And he invited them home to live with them. And they all lived happily ever after, in the room above Babble's icecream shop. The End. Did you like that?"

Harry seemed to consider, then started to roughly turn the pages back until they were at the beginning again. "Again," he said.

Lily sighed, but only for a moment, as Harry leaned his head against her shoulder. Her discontent changed to a smile. "Of course," she said, smoothing out the bent pages. "Once upon a time, there was a bunny named Babble..."


	5. Drawing

_Huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed/faved/followed my story so far! It means so much to me. Here's another chapter for you all... Would be great to know your thoughts on it :)_

 _Disclaimer : The Potterverse does not belong to me._

* * *

Lily came out of the bathroom after her shower, and quickly put away her robes in her room, before hurrying to check on Harry. She had left him amusing himself with his wooden blocks in his room.

He was still sitting there, banging two blocks together noisily and shouting. Lily laughed, and carried him to the kitchen with her, tucked under one arm. She set him down on the floor – she didn't see why not, for it was clean – and proceeded to start to bake a cake. Molly Weasely was coming over later that day, and she wished to be hospitable.

Harry soon started to cry. He wanted to go back to his blocks and his nice soft carpet. Lily picked him up, but then he wanted to go back down. "Oh stop crying!" she sighed, trying to hold him while she stirred the cake mix. Harry only bawled some more.

"What do you want?" asked Lily. "Your book? Your teddy?"

"Nooooo," sobbed Harry.

"What then? Do you want some raisins?"

Harry nodded his head, and screwed his fists in his eyes. Lily sighed and deposited her small son back on the floor, before taking some raisins out of the pantry and giving them to him in a small bowl. Harry stopped crying and ate the raisins like lollies, while Lily tried to measure the milk.

All to soon Harry was done eating, and wanted something to do. Lily racked her brains while her son licked the cake spoon. Suddenly she had an idea. She transfigured some crayons – not very good quality, but they would do – and placed a piece of parchment in front of Harry. She showed him how to hold the crayon, and he started to make big red squiggles on the paper.

Soon little Harry Potter was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, intent on his piece of artwork. Lily had put the cake in the oven, and was standing in the doorway, watching him entranced. Her dear son was drawing! He would surely be the greatest artist in the world one day! Lily lost herself in visions of fame and fortune, and of great museums commissioning her son's work...

Harry finished and took it to show his mummy. She picked him up, and the two of them carried it over to the wall. Lily stuck it on with a spell, and they stood back to admire it. It was a mixture of yellow, green, and red squiggles. There was something that looked like a person in the background, but maybe it was a chicken...

"Dads da boomstick, ad dads da pie machine," explained Harry. "Da pie machine id makes pies."

"Very well done!" said Lily. "I can't wait to see some more of your drawings."

"I will daw more domomorow," said Harry. "Bocks now?"

"All right, you can go back to your blocks, you adorable little child!" Lily kissed her son on the forehead and carried him back to his room, where he would sit on the floor and smash blocks against each other.

\\\\\

That evening, Lily showed James their son's drawings. James was very impressed, and he made a copy of it to take to work and show all his friends. "Maybe he will be an artist, rather than a Quidditch player," teased Lily.

"I doubt that. See, he drew a broomstick. It's in the blood, I'm telling you." James stared intently at the larger squiggle in the corner. "What is that? I can almost make it out, but not quite..."

"He said it's a pie machine."

James looked astonished. "A pie machine! Who would ever have thought! Our son, an inventor!"

"I think it's a bit early to tell yet, don't you think dear?"

"Well, you never can tell, as you say. Though I think the chances of him doing Quidditch are just too high. You'll have to give in eventually, Lily my love."

"I will give in when it happens, and not before," smiled Lily. The two of them stood in the kitchen admiring the drawing.

Lily decided then that she would ask Harry to draw his father a special drawing just for him to take to work. And she would make sure that there would be no brooms on it whatsoever.


	6. Board Games

_I am really sorry for not updating in ages everyone. I kinda ran out of ideas, and life is really busy at the moment so please bear with me, I would much rather be writing. So to make up for the wait, I wrote a slightly longer one than usual for you all. Thanks so much for everyone who read my story, and showed that they did so by reviewing/faving/following! You people are the best, and you always make me real happy, especially when I read your reviews!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the Potterverse_

* * *

 **4**

Harry was bored. He had played with his toy Quidditch set, and he had drawn a picture for his uncle Sirius' birthday. It was raining outside, and his mummy didn't like him playing in the rain, so he couldn't go out. He had nothing to do.

He wandered into the kitchen, and took out some pots in the pantry. His mummy was in the living room, so she wouldn't care. He set them up, and got out a wooden spoon out of the drawer. Starting to beat on the pots, he lifted his voice and sang the Chudley Cannons team song. "We are the greatest, the absolute greatest, we thrash any team we play!"

Harry's mother came rushing into the room. "Darling, not the pots!" she groaned.

"I'm bored, mummy," said Harry.

"Well, put the pots away, and then you can go and ask your father." She took the spoon out of his hand, and put it back in the drawer.

Harry had to help put the pots away, and then went to go and ask his dad. His dad was in the living room, reading the newspaper. Harry leaned on the edge of the sofa onto his dad's arm. "Daddy, what can I do?"

His dad sighed, and folded away the newspaper. "Why don't you... go play outside?"

"It's raining," moaned Harry.

"Not that hard."

"I already asked mummy, and she said no."

"Okay then. How about you... read a book?"

"Daddy, I can't read yet!" laughed Harry.

"Can't you learn?"

"I do know the alphabet," said Harry proudly. "A, B, D, E... what comes next daddy? No, don't tell me. Ummm... G! It's G daddy!"

His father laughed, and lifted Harry up onto his lap. "Well done!" he laughed.

"Mummy taught me last week. When you were at work. Do you have to go to work, daddy?" asked Harry seriously.

"Not today," answered his father. "Let's enjoy the weekend while we have it. What do you want to do with your old dad?"

"But you're not old, dad," said Harry.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

Harry thought seriously for a few moments. Then he had an idea. "How about we play a board game?"

"Splendid! What games do we have?" His father lifted him down, and the two of the went to Harry's room.

The board games were on a high shelf, so Harry's dad had to lift them down. They were kept in a green wooden box, and when the lid was taken off, Harry started to lift them all out. There were some games for babies, so Harry immediately put them to one side. In another pile, he put the deck of cards, the Quidditch Game, the Connect the Dots, Wizard Snap, and his three special jigsaw puzzles. Then he put the grownup games like Wizard Chess and Island Insanity in another pile. He sat back to admire his work. "Right daddy, you have to pick a game," he said. "This is the pile you can pick from. Those ones are too hard, and those ones are too easy, you know."

His dad smiled, and picked out the Quidditch Game. They went to the living room, and Harry set up the game, his dad watching. He spread out the board on the coffee table, and then carefully placed the card piles in the right spots. He got his dad to make the Quidditch players float – you needed an adult to play the game because it needed magic – and then set out the dice neatly.

"I'll go first," said Harry. He rolled the two dice, and got a 'move your chaser', and a 'Pick up a green card'. After his dad had read the dice out for him, Harry cried "Yes! Green cards are the best, you know daddy." Harry moved his chaser forward, and picked up a green card. His daddy read his card out for him. It said that he could have an extra move. Harry moved his beater this time, making sure it was in just the right spot to block the bludger.

The game went on. Harry's dad wasn't doing very well – he kept having to pick up red cards, and two of his players were soon taken out by the bludger. "I'm just really bad at this Harry. I reckon we should call it, and say you win," he said at one point. Harry protested loudly, and they kept playing.

The crucial point was when Harry spotted the Snitch. It was a small golden ball that flitted around the board. He sent his seeker after it, trying to keep it secret, but he couldn't help giggling. His dad still wasn't quite sure what he was doing, as he spent two important turns moving his keeper back and forth.

At last his dad noticed the snitch, and sent his seeker after it. But it was too late. Harry was already only a block away from it. Only one more move, and he would collect the snitch, and end the game.

It was Harry's turn. He took a deep breath, and rolled the two dice. They came to a stop, and his daddy read them out for him. "One blue card, and you can move your beater."

Harry thought deeply. He moved his beater to block his father's latest incoming throw of the bludger, and then picked up a blue card. It said that he could move his seeker! Beaming, he moved his seeker and it grabbed hold of the snitch. "I won daddy!" cried Harry.

"Well done!" cried his father. "You beat me fair and square."

Harry was suddenly thoughtful. "You're not... you're not upset to lose, are you daddy?"

His daddy laughed. "No, I'm not upset, I'm glad you won! But let's pack up now."

His father gave a flick of his wand, and all of the pieces were swept back into their box. The lid was closed, and Harry carried the box back to his room, and put it into the big green game box. Then he was thoughtful. He took out a piece of parchment, and started to draw a picture.

/

James burst into the kitchen. "Look what I found on our bed!" he cried.

"Hush, you'll wake Harry!" said Lily. "What did you find?"

James showed her a piece of parchment, covered in red and blue scribbles. If she looked closely, she could see two stick figures, one of them looking sad, and the other... giving him a hug?

"It's gorgeous!" she cried. "What's that scribble over there?"

"I believe that that's the game we played today. Quidditch something or other."

"Oh, how darling!" cried Lily. "We really do have the dearest son in the world!"

"How lucky we are to have him," said James.

"How lucky he still has us," said Lily.

The two of them were silent, thinking of what could have been if they had not made it through that fateful night of the battle. What a different life Harry might have lived.

* * *

 _Just quickly - some people have been asking what happened earlier, at the battle where the Dark Lord was destroyed. So you all know, I am planning a fic that will explain it all (dun dun dunnnnn). It won't be up for a while yet, as I haven't even started it, but keep an eye out for it. That's all. Pheonix out! *mic drop*_


	7. Christmas!

_Disclaimer: the Potterverse and everything in it does not belong to me._

* * *

 **5**

It was Christmas morning in the Potter household, and Harry was very excited.

As soon as he woke up, he crept into the living room and looked at the tree. He had helped to decorate it two weeks before, and now it had a big pile of presents sitting underneath it, just waiting to be opened.

Harry tiptoed into the kitchen. His dad had told him the night before that the little hand on the clock had to be pointing to the six before Harry was allowed to wake them up.

Or was it the big hand?

Well, the big hand was pointing to the six anyway. And it couldn't have been the little hand that he had to wait for – why, the little hand was still _ages_ away from the six. It just had to be the big hand.

With a yell of excitement, Harry rushed into his parent's room and bounced on their bed. "It's Christmas, it's Christmas!" he yelled.

It took him a while for him to make his parents get up, but when they finally heaved themselves out of bed he dragged them behind him to the living room to look at the tree. It took a while for them to start opening the gifts, because his mum and dad just _had_ to make themselves a cup of tea each, and then there was all that time wasted when his mum explained to him that he had been meant to look at the little hand. "It's only four," she said.

"Might as well start now," said his dad, who was looking quite excited. "We're up, anyway."

"I know," his mum said. "But only after I finish making the tea."

Finally they were all settled down in the living room, and Harry had handed his mum his present that he had made for her. She opened it, and squealed with excitement. His dad had stuck four sticks from the garden together to make a square, and Harry had painted it red and blue. "It's a picture frame," Harry explained.

"I love it!" his mum exclaimed, and gave him a big hug. Harry emerged smiling, and then gave his dad his gift. It was a piece of parchment covered in leaves, and flowers, and little nuts that he had found on his walks with his mum. She had stuck them on the parchment for him with her wand.

His dad said he was very impressed with the workmanship of his gift, and promised to take it to work with him and keep it forever. Harry was very happy with that promise, and his dad gave him a hug.

Then Harry was allowed to open his gifts. His uncle Remus had given him a set of little figures who came with broomsticks and Quidditch balls. Uncle Sirius had given him the stadium that came in a separate set. It was quite large, and his mum tutted and said that his uncles were far too generous, but his dad said that it looked like a fun set.

Harry's mum and dad had given him two books (both on Quidditch), and a box that was covered in key holes, and came with several different keys. Harry was absolutely delighted with the box and his books, and he made a big pile of all of his presents.

Harry opened the Quidditch toys from his uncles and played with them until his mum had made the breakfast. It was pancakes with sugar and lemon, and Harry ate four, which his dad said was more than he could manage. Harry didn't really understand what his dad had meant by that, as his father had actually eaten nine pancakes, but he supposed that it didn't really matter.

Then Harry went back to playing with his Quidditch set until his mum told him to get dressed, because they were going to the Weasleys for lunch. Harry was very excited – he loved going to see the Weasleys. His best friend Ron was there, and Ron had lots of older brothers who were very good at playing Quidditch and telling funny jokes. Harry always had lots of fun whenever he went to Ron's house.

Harry got dressed as quickly as he could (but it still took him ten minutes, because he kept putting his robes on inside out), and then skipped into the kitchen to tell his mummy he was ready. As it turned out, it still took a long time before they actually did leave, as his Dad took a long time to get ready and his mum had to finish making some food. But at last they climbed into the fireplace and flooed to the Weasleys.

There were lots and lots of people at the Weasleys. There were Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus, there were Luna Lovegood and her dad, there were Neville Longbottom and his grandma, as well as lots of other grownups whom Harry didn't know. For some reason the grownups kept wanting to talk to Harry, calling him the "savior of the wizarding world," and "You Know Who's downfall." Harry didn't quite like being called such things, especially as he could tell that the grownups didn't think he was very clever at all, because they talked to him as if he was a baby. Even after he told them that he was actually quite clever, they just laughed and patted him on the head and called him a sweet child.

At last his Mum rescued him by saying, "Harry dear, why don't you run off and play with your friends?" She gave him a little wink, and Harry quickly left the grownups as quickly as he could to find Ron and the others.

He found them outside playing around the water tank. Neville was showing Ron and the twins his new toy broom that he had been given for Christmas. "Do you want a ride?" he offered generously. Ron was about to say he did, but the twins grabbed it and ran off before he had the chance. He glared at them, and Neville shouted "HEY, YOU MEANIES!" and ran off chasing them.

"Hello," said Harry.

"Hello," said Ron, his hands in his pockets and kicking at the dirt.

"What did you get for Christmas?"

Ron cheered up immediately. "Come on, I'll show you." The small red head ran around the corner of the house, Harry following at his heels. Ron showed Harry the way to a little copse of trees next to the broom shed. "See," he said, pointing triumphantly at a swing upon which was sitting Luna Lovegood, humming happily to herself.

"That's so epic!" yelled Harry. "It looks awesome!"

"Yeah, it is! Luna, get off, it's Harry's turn!"

Luna looked with her big, green eyes straight at Harry. "Merry Christmas Harry," she said, before calmly climbing off the swing.

Harry clambered on. "Give us a push," he said, and Ron obediently pushed the swing back and forth, back and forth – but only for a short time, as he soon wanted a go. Harry would have argued but Luna's eyes were looking straight at him, and he found them slightly unnerving.

The two of them took turns on the swing, with Luna watching, until Ron's older brother Percy called them in. Percy was eight and extremely bossy, and the two boys groaned as they stumbled into the house.

Their mothers made them warm themselves up by the fire – "Goodness, you must be freezing," fussed Lily, to Harry's annoyance – before they were allowed to take some food and sit in the living room. The Dining table had been extended, but even so there wasn't enough room for the children to eat at it, so they had to sit in couches with food expertly balanced on their laps.

There were the twins, sitting next to each other and pulling Ron's hair. Percy sat next to them, with Charlie on his other side, and Neville and Luna sat next to Harry. There were a few older children whom Harry didn't know, but they didn't look very interesting anyway.

They ate roast turkey and roast chicken, and salad with pieces of bacon. Harry's mum had made him a chicken sandwich, and he carefully ate around the crusts. Harry didn't like crusts.

Lunch was finally over, and the mothers said that they had to go into the spare room and play a game. The spare room was at the top of the house, right underneath the attic, and creepy noises crept down that Ron claimed were from their resident ghost. Neville said he didn't believe Ron, and the two of them got into a fight that was stopped by Bill, who told them to stop being pansies and find something to do.

Eventually they all decided to play hide and seek. A girl called Nymphadora was it, and she grinned at them from under her bright purple hair as she said, "I'm gonna start counting, and I'm a fantastic finder, so I'd run if I was you! And don't go outside!"

Harry and his friends raced off, giggling like mad. They found themselves downstairs – it was empty of grownups, as they had all gone onto the front porch – and began searching for a good place to hide. Ron and Neville got into an argument about who was allowed to hide under the kitchen sink – "It's my house!" insisted Ron – and the Weasley twins hid themselves comfortably up the chimney. Percy hid behind the curtain, and Bill and Charlie and their friends hid themselves in the bedrooms.

Harry looked around, searching and searching for a place to hide. At last, he heard Nymphadora cry, "Ready or not!" Without a seconds thought, he threw open the cupboard under the stairs and climbed in, shutting the door behind him.

It was pitch black in the cupboard. Harry couldn't even see his hand held right in front of his face. It was cold too; the sort of cold that seeps in from under the house and creeps up into your toes. Harry didn't like it, but he knew that he had to hide for as long as he could – if he chickened out, Ron would never let him hear the end of it.

But then Harry started to hear noises. Creaks and drips and eerie howlings came from under the house. Something scuttled, and he froze, his little body too terrified to move.

From outside the cupboard, he heard Nymphadora walking – and muttering to herself, "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" – before she stopped, right in front of the cupboard. Harry prayed that she would open the door, and the flood of light would warm his face and he wouldn't have to stay in the cupboard any longer, but instead the girl yelled, "Found you Percy! Behind the curtain is a terrible place to hide!"

Harry's little body started to shake. He hated the cupboard. Suddenly, something crawled over his foot. He gave a yell, and kicked at the creature. It darted away, and the door of the cupboard opened, revealing Nymphadora's round face, saying "You know you're meant to be quiet when you're hiding, Harry!"

Harry had never wanted to see anyone so badly ever in his life. He clutched at her neck and sobbed, "Something… over… my foot…"

"Oh there there pumpkin." Nymphadora awkwardly patted Harry on the back. "It was probably just a spider."

"A spider!"

"But you're fine now," she said quickly, "Oh do calm down, it's just the cupboard! I'll tell you what, you can help me look for the others, okay?"

Harry cheered up and held onto Nymphadora's hand as she searched the house for the others. They were soon found – Neville and Ron had managed to both fit under the sink, after all – all except for Luna.

It took twenty minutes of searching for Nymphadora to find Luna. The older ones kept teasing her about how she was meant to be a good finder, being in Hufflepuff and all, but Nymphadora did not give up. Search eventually revealed the little girl sitting in the attic, talking to a white whispy figure which immediately darted away on seeing the others.

"I was just talking to your ghost," she said. "He says his name is Harold, and he would like you to be more quiet in the mornings when he's trying to sleep in."

"Told you we had a ghost," said Ron to Neville. Neville stuck out his tongue. The boys would have started to fight again, but they were all called downstairs for desert.

/

That night, when Harry's mum and dad tucked him in, he told them about how he had hidden in the cupboard and had been awfully scared. His parents hugged him, and his mum said, "Now honey, you know that you never have to go into a cupboard again if you don't want to."

"If it scares you, then you don't have to," said his dad.

"It didn't really scare me," explained Harry, "It was just dark and cold and had spiders."

"Of course honey," said his mum, before nodding pointedly at his dad.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry," began his dad, "We have something exciting to tell you, but you must promise to be a big boy about it."

"Are uncle Remus and uncle Sirius coming to stay?" asked Harry excitedly.

"No, it's better than that!"

Harry frowned. He didn't know what was better than that. "What is it?"

His mum looked awfully excited. "Sweetie, in a little while, you will have a little sister!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Just like Ron's little sister Ginny, except a bit smaller!"

Harry clapped his hands and grinned. "Will she sleep in my room? Will she play Quidditch with me?"

"Not for a while, Harry," grinned his dad. "But I'm sure one day she will love to play Quidditch with you."

"Hooray!" yelled Harry. He was getting someone to play Quidditch with, a live in best friend, and he couldn't be happier.

* * *

 _That was a long, drabblish chapter for you all. I hope you enjoyed!_

 _I KNOW IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE AN UPDATE I'm sorry guys! But I just have to give each and every one of you who has read/faved/followed but especially those who have reviewed, a huge, immense thank you AND a virtual cupcake! To be honest I had completely forgotten about updating this story. But then I reread all of my reviews, and reading the ones for this story made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside that inspiration struck and I wrote the nonsense that you have just read. But seriously people, the response for this story has been so unreal and humbling and I thank you so much! You guys are the best!_

 _And yes, Lily is pregnant. And yes, there was a reference to the cupboard under the stairs in this chappie :)_


	8. Cupcakes

_(yes I know it's been a year sssshhhhhh)_

 _(also I tried present tense for this one, love to know whether you think it worked!)_

 _ **Disclaimer:** The potterverse doesn't belong to me!_

* * *

 **7**

The kitchen is quiet. Lily is slightly suspicious; Harry is meant to be baking. She had been hesitant to let him in the kitchen alone, but he had begged and begged and in the end she let him.

He's only seven, but he is a little grown up. He wanted to bake cupcakes, and she had let him – setting out all the ingredients in a row, putting the oven on a child proof setting, laying out the recipe. He had wanted to do it by himself, so Lily had left, peeking her head round the corner every two minutes, and her heart beating fast at the sight of her little son cooking by himself.

The baby cries, and Lily turns to the hallway with a sigh. Little Rose Potter, her crop of red hair covering her head at one, is sobbing to herself.

Lily lifts her up, and feels an immense surge of satisfaction as the baby stops crying, her arms around her mother's neck.

Lily wants to check on Harry – but she knows she shouldn't. He's being independent, cooking all by herself.

But surely a peek won't hurt …

/

Harry checks the recipe again. It calls for a cup of sugar, so he carefully measures it out, frowning hard as he tips the spoon of brown sugar into the red mixing bowl.

Surely a lick wouldn't hurt …

But no. Harry shakes his head firmly at himself. He won't even have the tiniest taste of the mixture. It is going to be a surprise for Dad, and he can't have any beforehand.

Harry finishes mixing the mixture, and is satisfied that it looks just like how when Mum makes it.

Tongue slipping out of his mouth and glasses falling off his nose, he carefully spoons the mixture into red cupcake cases, opens the oven, and slips it inside.

Harry closes the oven. He looks up to see his mum looking at him, Rose on her hip, with a huge sloppy smile on her face. "How long have you been watching me?" he says suspiciously.

"Not long at all," grins his mum. "Just came in to watch the last bit. Did everything go okay?"

"Yes," says Harry.

"I'm sure they will taste delicious!"

"Yeah," says Harry. "Can I go to Ron's?"

"Who'll watch the cupcakes?"

"Um … can you? Please?" He fixes his mum with his best smile, and knows he has her when she sighs and nods. "Thanks!"

"Where's my kiss?"

Harry gives a large sigh and gives his mum a kiss on the cheek, before sprinting out of the kitchen and opening the front door.

"Your coat!" comes the call from the kitchen.

Harry gives an exaggerated sigh. His mum always makes him wear his coat, though it isn't cold outside at all. He tugs it off the hook on the wall by the door, and shrugs into it; it's big and green and warms his shoulders.

Then he opens the door and sprints out into the cold Autumn air.

/

Ron is excited as Harry tells him all about the cupcakes that he made.

Then Ron says: "Are you going to ice them?"

"Of course I am," huffs Harry. Whoever heard of un-iced cupcakes?

"You're lucky your mum let you cook," says Ron. "My mum won't let me near the kitchen. She says I'll burn the house down on accident."

Harry is silent. Then: "Maybe you can help me ice them."

"I'd love to!" shouts Ron, his freckles standing out in his face like little suns.

/

Harry carries the cupcakes off the top of the oven, and puts them on the kitchen table. They are cool now; his mum took them out of the oven for him at the perfect time, and they are golden and smell delicious. Ron grins. "Can't wait to eat them! Do you have the icing?"

"Icing requires a little knack," says Harry's mum, depositing Rose on the table, where she sits with her thumb in her mouth. "I use my wand to whip it up. How about I make it, and then you can spread it on?"

"Okay," says Harry.

Harry, Ron, and Rose watch as Lily mixes up the icing, beating it with a spell. She lets them lick the bowl, with a whispered "Don't tell your mum!" to Ron.

When the icing is done, Lily hands both the boys a spoon and tells them to go for it. She ices one herself, carefully spooning on the sugar and smoothing it with the edge of a knife. Harry and Ron slop on the icing with spoons, patting it and making little patterns in the icing.

It is messy, but it is fun, and the boys end up with icing on the ends of their noses.

The cupcakes are laid out on the kitchen table. Lily wipes the icing off the boys, removing the evidence. The boys both take a cupcake and go outside to play, and Lily nibbles a cupcake while curled up in a corner of the sofa.

Her Harry did a good job.

/

"This is delicious!" says James, the half eaten cupcake on the table in front of him.

Harry beams with pride. "Ron helped with the icing," he explains, "But I cooked them all by myself."

"Well done!" James exclaims, beaming with pride himself. "Are you sure mummy didn't help?"

"Not even a little bit!"

Lily nods and smiles, spooning some mash into Rose's mouth. "You did a good job, Harry."

"They do taste yum," says Harry, taking a large bite of the cupcake. "Can Rose have one?"

"She's a bit small yet."

"When she's older I'll cook her a cupcake," says Harry firmly.

Rose gurgles, and the Potters laugh. Bits of cupcake spraying out of Harry's mouth.

James and Lily smile at each other, before rushing to the rescue.

And outside the house, the Autumn winds blow, and the stars shine, and all is peaceful.

* * *

 _a) It's been a year, what! This was so much fun to write though, so the next chapter won't take as long ehe ehe ahhhh_

 _b) thanks to lojosmum for reminding me that it has been a year, and to all who have reviewed this story so far! so so thankful!_

 _c) I'm listening to Dodie Clark's new album, You, and it is very very good and you should listen to it too!_


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